mnvnjnsn's Diary

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LIke Mozart, he is

You might think, after four days of not writing, that I would have saved up inside me a million and one clever and entertaining things to impart to you.

I don't.

The only thing I do have, and stop me if you've heard this one, is the conversation I had with my eight year old nephew as he cleaned up his room. His almost-three year old sister was dancing around to Tchaikovsky's Capriccio Italien (which my nephew assured me he liked, but thought it needed "more cannons") and occasionally throwing herself to the floor and feigning injury, giggling,

"Leg broke! Leg! Broke! N!"

"You've broken your leg," I asked?

"No," my nephew sighed,"she didn't break her leg. If she broke her leg, she'd be immobile, and if she was immobile, then she'd be Toulouse-Lautrec!"

I'll let that sink in.

9:25 p.m. - 2004-02-17


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